Samantha Watkins: Chronicles of an Extraordinary Ordinary Life (Samantha Watkins Series Book 1)

by Aurélie Venem

  I found the promised door and descended the flight of stairs that led down to the basement. And wow, it was enormous. It must have extended below the entire area of the manor.

  Where most people might store old furniture, boxes, or bottles of wine, here there was a series of rooms reserved for the art of combat, including a firing range.

  In the biggest of these rooms, mats covered the floor, and weapons of all kinds and from different origins hung on the walls. There was even a punching bag, though I wondered how, with all the strength he had, my boss managed to not destroy it with a single punch.

  Speaking of my boss, I didn’t see him anywhere. I stepped into the room and stopped, eyes wide. Phoenix was in the back, pulling on a shirt. The muscles of his back followed the movements of his arms and allowed me to see a long scar that ran from his right shoulder to his left hip. I shivered, thinking that he must have gotten it when he was still human or else it would have healed. Next to that my head wound was only a small cut, nothing at all. I was still thinking about it when he spoke.

  “Are you going to join me, or are you going to stand there all night?”

  He still had his back to me.

  “How’d you know I was here?”

  “Your heart was beating as fast as racehorse’s hoofbeats. I could hear it.”

  Hm. Not sure if I appreciated the comparison. It wasn’t my fault I had a heart.

  “OK, I’m ready.”

  “Lie down on your back,” he said, advancing toward me.

  He was dressed like the kung fu masters you would see in Bruce Lee films: a loose white shirt and a pair of black pants. His feet were bare, of course.

  “You’re not going to bite me again! I understood that lesson.”

  “Stop spouting nonsense and do as I say.”

  I yielded, huffing, and then he knelt at my feet and placed on his hands on them. Oh, his hands were cold.

  “Let’s begin with a set of two hundred.”

  “Two hundred what?”

  “Sit-ups. Go on. I’ll keep count.”

  I must have been gawking like an idiot, because he felt obliged to tell me two more times before I grudgingly complied.

  After thirty, I felt like someone was sitting on my stomach. I was sweating buckets, and I had trouble lifting my back from the ground. Phoenix continued to count and urged me to push past my limits. Yeah, sure, I had passed them after just ten sit-ups. But I would have preferred to burn in hell than admit that to him.

  At the hundredth, I was on the brink of a stroke. At two hundred, exhausted and close to cardiac arrest, I shifted to my side to catch my breath and also to check that instead of doing sit-ups, I hadn’t just created a giant hole in my stomach.

  “Good. Now we will do some stretches before moving on to more serious things,” my trainer said, stretching out his arms even though he had, strictly speaking, done nothing at all.

  I stared at him wide-eyed. Serious things? He wanted me to die during my first lesson? If that was the case, he should’ve drained me of my blood in his office.

  He sneered.

  “You didn’t really think that some sit-ups would be the only thing on the agenda. That was just a warm-up.”

  “Uh, but I’m not a vampire,” I protested, painfully getting up.

  “That may be, but you must know how to defend yourself, and we do not have much time. Which is to say that your training will be . . . intensive. You will see, over several days it will be less hard.”

  “Easy for you to say. With your invincible vampire superpowers, this is a piece of cake!”

  “Don’t be so sure. It took me years and a number of teachers to master the use of the weapons you see in this room. What’s more, I am not invincible . . . I can be hurt, feel pain, even be killed.”

  “How can a vampire be killed? Other than decapitation of course. Is it like in the books?”

  “We will get to that during another session if you would like. As for now, follow my instructions.”

  Humph.

  His stretches made me work muscles that I didn’t even know I had.

  “Now, go to the punching bag. Hit gently at first, then harder. I want to see what you are capable of. Do not hold back—use your fists and your legs.”

  He was surely going to die of boredom (I know, I know, he was already dead) watching me trying desperately, punching like a little girl. Nevertheless, I did what he said and positioned myself in front of my “adversary.”

  “Empty your mind, then use that anger you have in you. It does not control you. It is your ally. Now, strike!”

  Fire up my temper again? Sure, that was easy. I closed my eyes and concentrated.

  When I opened my eyes, I started to hit, gently at first, then with more force. I thought about my failed life, from start to finish, how it was uncontrollably getting worse, and how at some point I was not going to get out of this unscathed, like that moment in Phoenix’s study, or this crazy training . . .

  I hadn’t even realized that I’d let myself go under completely. The rage was coming out of my body through the strikes I was delivering, and I was even forgetting my pain from earlier. A red veil had fallen over my eyes, and I no longer felt anything apart from my breathing and the impact of my punches.

  Suddenly I felt strong hands clasp my shoulders and pull me away from the punching bag.

  “That’s enough for now. Stop. Stop!” he said firmly.

  Phoenix had pivoted me around to face him and, still holding my shoulders, stared at me intensely. I returned his gaze, out of breath. The veil had vanished.

  “That felt good,” I murmured.

  He raised his eyebrows skeptically. However, I was being sincere, for I had found an outlet for my anger over losing my tranquil life. This sudden change must have appeared on my face, because Phoenix was staring at me, perplexed.

  “You are truly a strange young woman.”

  “You have no idea,” I answered, catching my breath.

  “You were engulfed in your anger. You couldn’t hear me anymore. You were too busy getting even with that punching bag.”

  “I did what you told me to do.”

  I knew that wasn’t the whole truth, because he had told me to use my emotions, not be controlled by them.

  “You lost control. We shall have to work on controlling your emotions. In a fight, you need to know how to keep your cool.”

  “I know, but I let off some steam. It did me a world of good.”

  “Well, at least now I know what you are capable of.”

  There was something like an air of satisfaction in the way he said that to me, but his face was as indecipherable as ever. In any case, it was a sure way to a headache to try to figure out what was on his mind.

  “OK, and now?”

  I had a hard time believing it, but my temporary madness had refreshed me. I was ready to destroy a brick wall with my bare hands. Of course, I couldn’t really do that, but that was how I felt.

  Phoenix must not have expected that. He raised his eyebrows again. He obviously had the same limited range of facial expressions as Teal’c, a character from Stargate SG-1, my favorite series, who could only show his emotions that way.

  “I think you deserve a break.”

  He went to the back of the room and took a small bottle of water from a mini fridge. There must have been more than just water in there. But so what? With my discovery in the kitchen the night before, I no longer had any desire to take a look. He threw the bottle at me.

  “Drink,” he ordered when I caught the bottle.

  Eat. Rest. Drink. He was certainly not going to dictate every move that I made. But sure, he was right, it was better that I quench my thirst than end up with cramps.

  That fresh water was more than welcome, and I drank it all in one gulp. When I’d finished, I realized that Phoenix had been watching my movements . . . and I hadn’t even done anything this time. Better get used to it: everyone has their quirks after all. Maybe he liked to watch h
umans drink and eat because he could no longer do the same.

  It was already eleven at night, and I wondered how much more time this session was going to last. In any case, I didn’t really feel like going to sleep.

  “Are you ready to continue?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, let’s move on to the basics of karate.”

  “Do you honestly think that you’re going to make a karateka out of me in just a few weeks? I’m having trouble believing it myself.”

  “I seem to remember hearing you say that you were already a black belt,” he said with irony.

  It was my turn to roll my eyes.

  “Oh, please, have you taken a good look at me? I said that because when I’m terrified, I say everything and anything that passes through my head. You never believed me.”

  For the first time, he gave a hint of a real smile.

  “Certainly, but I like hearing you say it.”

  I had to hand it to him, he had a sense of humor. Besides, who liked to work for a boss she despised?

  For three hours (oh yes, and I put my heart and soul into it), I studied the basic movements of karate. It was really difficult, especially knowing that I had been born awkward and clumsy. I don’t even know how many times I fell to the ground, but I was surprised that I liked the exercise.

  Finally, I begged for mercy. I had fallen to my knees. I didn’t think my legs could support me any longer.

  Phoenix knelt down beside me.

  “Congratulations. I am pleasantly surprised. I honestly did not think you would last this long.”

  I lifted my head to look at him, trying to catch my breath.

  “You mean, you expected that I would ask you to stop?”

  “Exactly. It was good to test your limits. And I must say that this is rather encouraging.”

  I glowered at him. I felt like I had climbed and descended Mount Everest, and for him, this was just “encouraging.” I was going to have to teach him a lesson too: tact!

  “Thrilled that I didn’t bore you,” I grumbled. “If that’s the only compliment you have for me, at least help me get up again, or else I’ll just spend the night here.”

  And he did. That was becoming a habit. I would have to strengthen my leg muscles so he wouldn’t take me for a whiner who falls to the ground as soon as something doesn’t go right. But I wouldn’t have asked him to leave me there. His support was essential to my balance, since I felt like I’d gone through a meat grinder. After drying myself off with the towels he provided for me, we climbed back upstairs, and he helped me sit on the sofa in the parlor. You could have compared the scene with the care of little grandmothers in a nursing home; the only thing missing was a walker. Completely ridiculous.

  “Whew, thanks,” I said, wedging a cushion behind my back.

  He then left me for a few minutes, returning with two glasses. One was filled with lemonade and the other with a thick red liquid that I immediately identified as blood.

  He handed me my lemonade, then took his place on the armchair facing me, his glass in his hand. The silence that settled between us seemed to drag on and made me ill at ease. I needed to break it, to try to satisfy my curiosity.

  “I thought that vampires needed to drain a human of blood to sate their appetite. Is that enough for you?”

  He didn’t respond right away, lost in thought, gazing at his liquid nourishment. I thought he wouldn’t even bother answering, but then he said, “You seem to have read quite a bit about vampires.”

  “I studied literature, and I’m a . . . or rather, I was a librarian, and I have no social life. So I read everything that comes into my hands. And I might as well tell you, I like the world of the fantastic, so I obviously have read some books about vampires.”

  “I see. And what have you read?”

  “Well, Dracula, but it didn’t really grip me. Um, the Twilight saga too, but everyone read those books, I think, and then some others.”

  I wasn’t sure if Phoenix was the type to read about the romantic trials and tribulations of a group of big-hearted vegetarian vampires, shining like diamonds in the sunlight. Personally, like millions of readers in the world, I’d been engrossed by them.

  “Oh yes, some of us read those out of curiosity. It appears that they are outrageously funny. But I’m not the type to read about the romantic trials and tribulations of a group of big-hearted vegetarian vampires, shining like diamonds in the sunlight. That does not resemble us at all.” He broke off suddenly with a disgusted look.

  Oh! Had he read my thoughts? Or had I read his?

  “What, vampires don’t feel love?”

  “Our kind guards its independence fiercely. To love is to depend on another person, and dependence is an open door to weakness. So we avoid it if we can.”

  I stared at him, surprised and floored by that collective, negative vision of such a beautiful sentiment. He noticed my look and gave a mirthless laugh.

  “We are far from being Edward and Bella,” he said, as if he were announcing a verdict.

  “Then it never happens? That a vampire falls in love?” I pursued, too astounded to conceive the idea.

  After all, vampires had been humans before their transformation, and humans felt emotions.

  “Yes, but it is rare. Vampires think of themselves first and foremost. Never forget your first lesson. Worrying about someone else means abandoning that conviction, and those of my kind have difficulty imagining that.”

  It seemed that for him, love between two people was an indecipherable riddle. Strange . . .

  “You vampires really have a strange mentality. But then, what holds your community together if you have no feelings?”

  “We have feelings. The first and most important is the loyalty we feel toward those we recognize as our leaders. We form friendships too, sometimes deep ones. But it stops there.”

  That was something at least. In a sense, I was feeling compassion for the vampire species. I wasn’t a great romantic, but I’d always thought that to love someone and be loved in return was a way to move forward in life and definitely not the opposite. The vampiric vision of things was less shocking than it was sad. I decided to return to the topic of exsanguination.

  “By the way, you never answered my question earlier, about how much blood you need to drink.”

  “Ah, yes. Your books are not completely wrong. In the old days, humans were drained of their blood because of the frenzy of the hunt and of biting. Killing a human that way allowed a vampire to go without eating for several weeks, except for those who really had a taste for blood. But that all changed.”

  “How so?”

  My curiosity was truly piqued now.

  “Well, not every vampire is a bloodthirsty monster, and some tried to not kill their victims, only taking small amounts of blood. But the victims had to be killed in order to keep the Secret, so it amounted to the same thing. Then we realized we did not need to completely drain a human to survive. The truth is that small but regular amounts are plenty to keep us alive and healthy. The Great Change was decided in part thanks to that realization. What’s more, we discovered that the aggression connected to our predatory nature was significantly reduced because of the new way of consuming blood, and relationships between vampires became less violent, more diplomatic.”

  “That’s not always the case, according to what I saw in the alley.”

  “Indeed.”

  It looked like I wouldn’t be learning anything more about what he had been up to with those two awful men. Fine.

  “Do your eyes always shine when you’re in, um, attack mode?”

  “As I have been telling you, we are predators. A taste for hunting is part of our nature. Luminescent eyes are a manifestation of excitement at the prospect of a hunt.”

  “Not very discreet, if you want my opinion.” Then, without thinking, I blurted out, “Additionally, you look like the Goa’uld in Stargate.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Oh, nothing. I wat
ch too much television. But why weren’t your eyes shining like the other two vampires, the ones you were fighting?”

  I shivered at the memory of Phoenix’s metallic stare before he had jumped at my throat.

  “I do not really know. I have often been asked that question, but I do not have an answer.”

  “When I saw their eyes, I already thought I was lost in a straight-up nightmare, but I can tell you that your eyes are even more terrifying.”

  There again, he disappeared into a contemplation of his glass of blood, silence settling in once more. It was at this very moment that my stomach decided to chime in, as an odious rumbling coming from my gut made itself noisily heard, putting an end to my employer’s reflection. He lifted his head to stare at me, tightening his lips.

  “Good grief,” I yelped, giving myself a punch to the zone in question, as if by this simple gesture I could recover my lost dignity.

  I squirmed in my seat, getting the impression that my cheeks were ablaze like a forest of pine trees in full drought. Despite his five hundred years of vampire existence and all the time he had had to acquire an exemplary sense of self-control, Phoenix had to surrender. I then understood why he was tightening his lips so hard.

  He burst into laughter, a booming laugh that convinced me at last that if someone could die of shame, I would have dropped dead on the spot.

  “Oh, good grief.”

  I hid my face in my hands, for I would have preferred to be struck by the lightning of his glare than see him convulse like that, overcome by amusement.

  He was still laughing when he said, “Truly, Miss Watkins, you are a very interesting human. I don’t think I’ve laughed like this for at least fifty years.”

  “Happy to put a little joy in your life,” I thundered, aiming less at him than at my stupid stomach.

  Even if I suspected that my new boss didn’t laugh often, it reassured me to know that he was at least capable of it. It humanized him in a way, and made him a little less terrifying.